


switched

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1560110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac accidentally takes home the wrong bag after a visit to the library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	switched

Courfeyrac didn’t like the library. It was too quiet – a place where you weren’t allowed to talk and laugh and eat wasn’t the right place for him.

Sometimes he did find his way inside, though, but he always made a point of not staying longer than strictly necessary. Especially when it was Friday night and he had other, more exciting places to be. Today, however, he chose to linger a little longer than he usually did. Although it definitely wasn’t because of Combeferre.

He definitely wasn’t hiding behind a shelf, sneaking glances at Combeferre either. Because that would have been _so_ creepy.

The problem was that Combeferre was hot. In a handsome librarian of his dreams kind of way.

He’d gone to Enjolras’ place to work on a group projects for one of their politics classes a couple of weeks ago and he’d just been there, sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by notes and books and empty cups of tea and had looked up and smiled at him when he’d introduced himself. Enjolras’ roommate Combeferre.

Combeferre with his glasses that kept sliding down his nose and his beautiful smile and his sweater vests and his glorious ass. Not that Courfeyrac had been looking at his ass a lot.

Courfeyrac swallowed hard, watching as Combeferre pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and turned the page of the book he was sifting through at a quite impressive speed. Courfeyrac could just walk over there. Say hello. They knew each other, it wasn’t weird to say hello to someone you knew when you happened to see them at the library.

He nodded to himself, straightened his clothes and walked over to the table Combeferre was sitting at, clearing his throat as he approached. “Hey,” Courfeyrac whispered, even though it was late and there was definitely no one else around. Combeferre looked like someone who took whispering at the library quite seriously.

Combeferre looked up, smiling at him. God, that smile was going to be the end of him. “Hello.”

Courfeyrac grinned and set his bag down on the table. “I was… I wanted to get a book,” he mumbled. He could have just asked him how he was doing. “Which is what you do at libraries, so I guess that was obvious.” Wow, he really wasn’t making this any better. He usually really didn’t have problems talking to people, he had no idea why it was so hard for him when it was Combeferre he was talking to.

Combeferre only nodded, though. “Do you want me to watch your bag while you’re looking for your book?”

Courfeyrac could have kissed him. “Yeah, thanks, yeah, that would be great.”

“No problem,” Combeferre said, turning back to his book.

Courfeyrac stalked off, not without glancing back at Combeferre one more time, finally heading for the politics section. It didn’t take him long to find the book he’d meant to get and quickly headed back to Combeferre.

Maybe he could ask him if he wanted to have coffee. Or dinner. No, maybe just coffee for now.

Combeferre was still engrossed in a book, but a different one this time.

“Do you have… a lot of work to do?” Courfeyrac asked, peering over Combeferre’s shoulder.

“I should really work through those this evening,” Combeferre replied, nodding at the stack of books on his left that was about as big as the Empire State Building.

Well, he probably didn’t have time for coffee, then.

Courfeyrac hummed in response and reached for his bag. Which looked a lot like Combeferre’s. Actually, they looked pretty much alike. Well, his one was the one on the right. He was sure. At least 98% sure. He grabbed for his bag and slung it over his shoulder, now certain that it was the right one. “Thanks for babysitting my bag,” he muttered, getting another smile in response.

At least his trip to the library hadn’t been a complete waste of time.

* * *

“This is not my bag.”

Enjolras looked up from his laptop, frowning. “What?”

Combeferre held up his – no, actually not his – bag. “This isn’t mine.” It looked exactly like his, it was the same color, the same shape, but the things inside most definitely weren’t his.

“Did you…” Enjolras tilted his head, “steal it?”

“Of course I didn’t steal it,” Combeferre said lowly. “I think it might be your friend Courfeyrac’s.” He’d had his bag on the table right next to him, and that was where Courfeyrac had put his, too. He’d noticed that they looked somewhat similar back in the library, but he hadn’t inspected Courfeyrac’s bag closely enough to see whether it looked exactly like his. Obviously it did.

Enjolras’ frown only deepened. “And how did you come by Courfeyrac’s bag?”

“We met at the library, I suppose he has the same one,” Combeferre explained, sitting down next to Enjolras, still holding the bag. “Is it bad that I kind of want to look inside.”

“Wait, how did you notice it wasn’t yours if you haven’t already looked inside.”

“Well, I did, but only for a second. There’s a bottle of Mountain Dew in here. I hate Mountain Dew.” Quite frankly, Courfeyrac’s bag was a mess. There was a Tupperware box with a half-eaten sandwich inside, a notebook, a couple of chocolates, crumpled post-it notes, a napkin with a number scrawled on it in bright red lipstick, which Enjolras snorted at, all of it just stuffed inside. “I shouldn’t do this.”

“Well, you just did,” Enjolras said, eyeing him with a smug expression, holding up the crumbled napkin. “Do you want his number so you can give it back?”

“Sure, yes, that would be great,” Combeferre said. He’d thought about asking Enjolras for Courfeyrac’s number for a while now. Combeferre hardly knew him, but every time they’d come across each other in the past, Combeferre had enjoyed his company immensely. Courfeyrac was funny, and he laughed at his own jokes more than everybody else did, and his nose crinkled when he did and Combeferre thought it was rather endearing. He had nice hair, too, which was an observation he’d made early on and he’d actually thought about running his fingers through it on more than one occasion, all of which he regretted deeply.

Combeferre wasn’t a pessimist, by all means, but he didn’t get his hopes up either. Courfeyrac just didn’t seem like the type of person who looked for a guy like Combeferre. He probably looked for someone who wrote their phone number on napkins in lipstick. It was as simple as that.

Enjolras returned with his phone in hand and wordlessly handed it to him, showing a string of text messages.

_From Courfeyrac_ : i might have accidentally kidnapped your friends bag

_From Courfeyrac_ : or bagnapped????

_From Courfeyrac_ : anyway tell im really really really really sorry

_From Courfeyrac_ : ill bring it over tomorrow morning ok?

Combeferre tried not to be too disappointed that he wouldn’t need Courfeyrac’s phone number after all. He handed Enjolras’ phone back to him. “Tell him thank you.”

Enjolras nodded, tapping out a reply. “Do you still want his number?”

* * *

 

“Courf, no,” Grantaire said resolutely. It was amazing how strong he still was after God knows how much wine.

Courfeyrac had called him nearly an hour ago, begging him to come home. Grantaire had been out at some pub, probably the Corinthe, with Joly and Bossuet and had obviously not been too happy about having to leave them to drink on their own, but had agreed when Courfeyrac had told him that it was basically an emergency.

When his emergency had turned out to be a bag, Grantaire had only rolled his eyes and had told him to text Enjolras – since he obviously knew Combeferre – to tell him that he had his bag and that he’d bring it back first thing in the morning. Grantaire was surprisingly good in a crisis when he wanted to be. Now, however, he was an obstacle.

“I just want to take another peek,” Courfeyrac whined. He had Combeferre’s bag right here, he’d just taken a quick look before he’d noticed that it wasn’t actually his bag and now he was just so damn curious.

Grantaire shook his head. “You can’t just snoop around in his stuff.”

“Be honest, if that bag belonged to Enjolras, you’d be snooping, too,” Courfeyrac said. “You’d be snooping so hard.”

Grantaire sighed wearily and dropped the bag in Courfeyrac’s lap.

“I knew it,” Courfeyrac muttered and carefully opened the bag. There were mainly books inside, and he really wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed that his bag was suddenly weighing a ton. Well, Combeferre had smiled at him. That was why.

“He likes books, doesn’t he?” Grantaire asked, pulling one of them out of the bag, leafing through it. “Does he study medicine?”

“I guess so,” Courfeyrac mumbled. They’d actually never talked about what they were studying. They’d talked about the Mexican restaurant across from campus that they both liked. And about that one time Enjolras had got himself and Grantaire thrown out of the cafeteria. And about how much they’d both cried about _The Land Before Time_.

Anyway, he was sure that Combeferre was certainly smart enough to study medicine. He was sure that he’d trust Combeferre with his life in a heartbeat. He had that reassuring aura kind of thing going on.

“That’s nice,” Grantaire said, “he’s probably good with his hands, then.”

“Oh, shut up,” Courfeyrac grumbled. Although Grantaire certainly wasn’t wrong. Combeferre had nice hands. He didn’t even want to think about all the things he could do with those really nice hands.

He was going to die when he had to bring back that bag the next morning, he was sure.

* * *

Combeferre got up early, he always did, and he wanted to be sure to look at least vaguely presentable when Courfeyrac came over.

He’d said he’d come by in the morning, but for a lot of students _in the morning_ meant _maybe sometime around noon or whatever_ , so he couldn’t be too sure about when he was actually going to show up.

Their doorbell rang at around nine, which was early enough for Enjolras to still be in bed. Combeferre made an attempt at smoothing down his hair, then he went to open the door.

Courfeyrac looked like a ray of sunshine – Combeferre wasn’t even sure if he’d ever seen Courfeyrac without a smile on his face. As promised, he had Combeferre’s bag slung over his shoulder, and he was carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a small box with the logo of the bakery around the corner printed on it.

“Good morning,” Combeferre greeted him, taking the coffee from him when Courfeyrac nearly dropped it onto their doormat.

“Hi,” Courfeyrac said lowly. “I’m so sorry, really so super sorry, you have no idea. I was so sure that it was my bag, oh man, I hope you didn’t need it last night, but I checked…” Courfeyrac blushed. “I mean, just to see if there was something you might need in there. You know, like your keys or something.”

“I see,” Combeferre said. “I did the same.” It wasn’t exactly true, obviously he’d been curious, and after Courfeyrac had texted Enjolras it had been clear that he at least had his phone.

Courfeyrac nodded. “Well, thanks for giving my bag a home for the night.” He set down Combeferre’s bag next to the door. “There’s donuts in here,” he added, holding up the box. “Just as a little peace offering.”

“I’m glad you’re not making unreasonable ransom demands,” Combeferre said and picked Courfeyrac’s bag up from where it was hanging on their coat rack. “Here’s yours.”

“Ah yeah, thanks.” Courfeyrac handed him the donuts as well so he could accept his bag from him. “Well, I should probably get going.”

“What about the coffee?” Combeferre asked. “And the donuts. You don’t expect me to eat them all by myself, do you?”

“Well, Enjolras likes donuts, doesn’t he?” Courfeyrac asked.

“He does,” Combeferre confirmed. He didn’t want Courfeyrac to leave yet, though. “I was hoping you might join me.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said, laughing nervously.

“Unless you’re busy,” Combeferre added quickly.

Courfeyrac immediately shook his head and marched into the apartment, dumping his bag by the door.

They sat down in the living room, sipping their coffee and eating their way through the donuts Courfeyrac had brought, easily falling into a conversation about their classes, Courfeyrac complaining about his professors, something that Combeferre was used to from Enjolras.

Enjolras himself emerged from his room about an hour later, peering inside the living room, unseen by Courfeyrac, and quickly retreated again when he found the two of them talking.

Combeferre had never been more grateful to him.

He was dimly aware that Courfeyrac didn’t take his eyes off him for even a second, taking about five minutes to put his shoes back on when he eventually got up to leave because he was still looking up at Combeferre, telling him about his favorite coffee shop instead of paying an ounce of attention to his shoelaces.

He said goodbye with a “See you soon” and skipped out the door and down the stairs.

Combeferre was still smiling when he picked up his bag and carried it back to his room, not exactly looking forward to doing the work that was waiting for him inside of it.

It only took him seconds to realize that it was _not his bag_.

He snorted and got his phone.

_To Courfeyrac_ : You took my bag. Again.

_From Courfeyrac_ : oh no :)

_From Courfeyrac_ : maybe you should bring it over this time

_From Courfeyrac_ : and maybe you should bring dinner

_To Courfeyrac_ : Sounds like a reasonable idea.

_From Courfeyrac_ : i know ;) see you tonight?

_To Courfeyrac_ : Yes, I’ll see you tonight.

Later, when they were sitting on Courfeyrac’s balcony, surrounded by empty food cartons, Combeferre turned to Courfeyrac. “You took mine again on purpose, didn’t you?”

Courfeyrac’s smirk was answer enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the stupid title.  
> I'm pretty new to this ship, so feedback would be appreciated :)


End file.
